February 1999

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Afghan Whigs --1965

A review by Courtney Knopf

Greg Dulli is a rock star. If you don't believe me, go see a live Afghan
Whigs show, and Dulli himself will convince you of this. He croons, purrs
and growls through a live set as if it was his birthright. And while many
thought that being treated for clinical depression would soften, and
possibly even ruin the earnest wail that has become his trademark,
1965, the Whigs 5th album, is a testament to the idea that even
being happy can't ruin a good thing like rock music. In a year that has
been bombarded with such "rock" offerings from the likes of Matchbox 20 and
Third Eye Blind, Dulli and Co. show those panty weights how it should be
done.

1965 is considerably lighter than the last two offerings in the
Whigs catalog (1993's much lauded Gentlemen and the criminally
overlooked Black Love from 1996), but it packs such a punch that
you'll wonder where the Whigs have been all your life. Recorded on their
own dime in New Orleans, 1965 shows a new maturity in the Whigs
repertoire. Adding a horn section as well as the sultry backing vocals of
Susan Marshall, the songs come to life with more layers in a much richer
fashion. Combined with Rick McCollum's grinding lead guitar and John
Curley's bass, this album is a down and dirty romp through libidinous
desire that shows off the chops of the band as well as their fondness for
soul music and good old fashioned rocking out.

"Somethin' Hot," the first track on the album (as well as the first
single), is a rollicking tale of seduction that sets the tone for the
duration of the disc. And then of course there's the 22 second track called
"Sweet Son Of A Bitch," which is merely a recording of a woman reaching
sexual ecstasy that was apparently recorded in the confines of Dulli's
bedroom. But the album is about more than just sex; the wonderful "Citi
Soleil," apparently inspired by a cabbie from the Port-Au-Prince town of
the same name, captures the feel of a Caribbean city and all that madness
and fire that it houses. While Dulli is a little bit less angst-ridden
than in previous work, he's no less adroit at conjuring up images with a
simple verse like 'You walked in/Just like smoke/With a little come on,
come on, come on/In your walk,' from the sublime "66."

Perhaps by accident, the Whigs have made a party album. A sex-drenched
blend of rock and soul that could make even the most staid of record
listeners dance. Get 1965 and Dulli will show you how to "Make
Party" and shake your ass like you know you should.